A Brand New Legacy
by magicmumu
Summary: As Superman decides to hang up his cape, he is on the lookout for someone to replace him. Full summary on prologue. Posted to see if people want the whole story, otherwise I will just post it in my journal. Not my best work.
1. Prologue: The Dead Kryptonian

A Brand New Legacy  
>by Erin Griffin<br>Fandom: Superman  
>Rating: PG-13 for violence<br>Summary: As Superman decides to hang up his cape, he is on the look out for someone to replace him. He sets his sights on Brandon Jennings, a volunteer fire fighter who doesn't look the part, but holds a lot of potential. As time passes, he'll find out if he made the right choice.

Prologue: The Dead Kryptonian

Even without his powers, Clark could smell the antibacterial scent often accociated with hospitals. His nose scrunched some as a woman in a wheelchair rolled by, her head down on her shoulder, her eyes vacant and overmedicated as a nurse in light green scrubs pushed her around. It wasn't just the smell of bleach and tubs of disinfectant that entered Clark Kent's senses. It was the ever present smell of death. The broad man saw it each and every day as his alter ego Superman. Though he wasn't human, he was still only one man, and one of the hardest lessons he had to learn was that he couldn't save everyone. It was a truth he hated facing, taking each death personally. Even so, he kept an eye on his family, the Kents who loved and raised him, his best friends from both childhood and from the Daily Planet, and his one true love, Lois Lane. He had been foolish enough to think he could protect them all. How arrogent was he to think that he would be enough to save them from what was to come? But how could he, Superman, save his loved ones from dying of causes unknown? Of sickness like Pete? Of a heart attack like his bold father? Of time and natural causes like his dear mother? And now as he sat with his head in his hands, he wondered how he ever thought he could have saved his soulmate from the complications of childbirth.

Clark had his worries when Lois spoke of wanting children. He couldn't predict what could come of a child born half Kryptonian, and the couple stayed cautious. Raising a child with the father leading such a dangerous life, and even the mother getting into scary situations to get the story just didn't make sense. But somewhere after Lois' 37th birthday, she told Clark that she was willing to take the risk, whatever that may have been. The first try was unsuccessful. Her body treated the child as if it was defective, and aborted it. Many tries later, the same result, and it all happened at around the tenth week of pregnancy. Just when Clark was willing to stop and suggested they adopt, Lois was pregant again. The couple tried not to get their hopes up, but by some miracle, the child made it past the tenth week mark. And the eleventh. And the twelfth. Even Clark became excited to be a father.

But it was at the seventh month mark of the pregnancy, and the complications began, which hospitalized Lois. Clark was by her side when Lois died, and he was rushed from the room as the doctors tried to save the baby. Clark sat now wondering how he was going to raise a child without Lois, or what he would do if he found out that the doctors couldn't save his son, either.

Clark looked up when he heard footsteps approach him. It was Lois' gynocologist, Dr. Farnsworth, who had known about the child's 'special needs' during the pregnancy, and therefor knew about Clark's lineage. He looked into Dr. Linda Farnsworth's eyes and he knew what she was going to say. "Mr. Kent, I'm so sorry..."

With those four words, his entire life ended, and he knew that he was now completely alone...


	2. Chapter 1: What Happened to Superman?

Chapter 1- What Happened To Superman?  
>*Many Weeks Later*<p>

Lois Lane's funeral was well attended. Anyone who was anyone in Metropolis- hell, the entire world- had a debt to pay or some 6th degree of seperation from the reporter and came to pay their respects. Everyone, it seemed, but Superman, who everyone who ever picked up the Daily Planet knew was aquainted with Lois more than anyone could count. Clark, poor Clark, was there the whole time, mourning silently the way an adoring husband should.

But that was weeks ago, and the Earth continued to move in its un-ending rotation, causing the sun and moon to rise and set, and calendar pages to rip away, one by one. It was all a blur to Clark, as his broad shoulders were often seen slumped over whichever artical he worked on, only stopping for the continuous cups of coffee, a cry for help, or the two or three hours of sleep a night. He had long since forgotten what time it was, let alone the day of the week or what month he currently merely exsisted in.

On this night, it was no different. If anything hurt the Man of Steel, Clark would now be in a back brace from his bad posture and hours of strain from the odd angle at which he'd been at his desk. He glimpsed at the clock on the bottom right corner of his computer screen when he heard the frantic cry, which was interupted by a cough. Mechanically, much in the same way he had done for these past weeks, Clark hurried from the building and changed in the phonebooth, bursting from it as he flew overhead. He could see the smoke before he knew that was where the scream was coming from. Something entered his mind: Vaguely, he remembered an artical he'd written about a serial arsonist that had set several fires. Now that he thought about it, this was the third fire that he'd rushed into just that week. Who knew how long these fires had been going on, how long he allowed himself to be numb and almost negligent in his duties as protector of Metropolis.

Clark flew into the burning building without really thinking twice about it, the air of his flight already taking care of some of the flames. He didn't feel the heat. He never did, but the smoke did affect his vision. He sucked in air and breathed out a mighty wind, which brew out more flames. He soon found the woman who had cried out, but he also saw a large-set man in a fireman suit. Clark couldn't see much more than that, as the man was covered from head to toe, but he could just make out the dark brown of the fireman's moustache and the fact that this man was young, twenty-four at the oldest. Superman saw that the floor beneath both the woman and the fireman was sinking, about to collapse, and he hurried to duck under them both and carried them out of the building, blowing out the flames on the way out.

Clark barely heard the murmurs and gasps as people admired him. He instead gently put the woman and the fireman down just as he began to hear the ambulance's sirens. He knew that they still had a long way yet to get to the scene. He looked back to the building and saw that the firefighters were doing their jobs well, and were handling the rest of the fire. He looked at the man in front of him, who had taken off his helment. Superman saw that he had brown hair, and a growing beard to go along with the moustache, but he otherwise had kind, though concerned eyes. "Is there anyone else inside?" Superman asked him.

"I thought I saw someone on my way in. He was tall with long, blonde curley hair. He looked like a surfer type who took a wrong turn to the beach or something. I don't know, I got a weird feeling about 'im though, because he was standing there at the bottom of the stairs just... frozen," the firefighter said. "I think he might be the arsonist that's been everywhere. I'm sorry."

"Do not apologise to me. You saved that woman. Let me take care of the arsonist, if there is no one else inside."

"No one else. That I know of."

"Then this is where we part."

The firefighter watched as Superman took to the sky, aching to be able to just fly wherever he liked. The cough of the woman brought him back to the task at hand, and he supported the woman as he got her towards the ambulances that were just rolling up. He helped hoist the woman onto the stretcher with an oxygen mask over her face. He stayed at her side for a while longer as he thought about his (now literal) hero. When he looked at and spoke to Superman, it was so much different than what he always imagined an encounter with him would be. Superman stood tall and faced the flames of the fire even though everyone knew they wouldn't hurt him. He wasn't as kind or caring as the fire fighter had always seen him be on TV, and there was a determination on TV that wasn't there in real life. He did save him and the woman, but it it felt almost like a busness transaction. He seemed indifferent, cold almost, and the firefighter knew that something was wrong with Superman. The firefighter could tell that whatever kept Superman fighting all these years was gone.

What happened to Superman to make him this way? Was it Lois Lane, the woman he saved countless times, who had passes away? Was he not at her funeral because he was too distraught to think of her gone? Did he love her, even though she married a fellow reporter?

The firefighter heard his name called by a fellow volunteer, and he looked to see that they were gathering up the firehose and getting ready to head back to the station. He was grateful that this time there had been no fatalities of this fire. In the last fire, two people had died, along with countless pets, and the firefighter took it very hard, as he was in the building at the time, and he had to get out before he, too, parished in it. He knew the risks of becoming a firefighter long before he ever volunteered and started doing the training. He was grateful that he had passed his exams, though barely, so that he could help people, because above all else, that was what he wanted to do with his life, to make a difference. The money didn't matter to him.

The fire fighter took a couple of steps towards the fire truck when he felt a hand grab his wrist. The woman on the stretcher grabbed her oxygen mask and began to wheeze. "Whooo... huhhhhhhh... Who-Who..."

"That was Superman who saved you," the firefighter replied. "Please, ma'am, you need to keep the mask on. You've inhaled a lot of smo-"

"No. You. Who... you?" the woman asked.

"Brandon. Brandon Jennings," the firefighter told her.

"Br-Brandon Jennings... Thank you..." She sucked in a lot of air, but it sounded fleshy and the firefighter winced. "...for saving me."

"You're welcome..." Brandon left the last part of the sentance open as an invitation for the woman to tell him her name.

"Agn- nes."

"Well Agnes, you're very welcome. Now please," he said, guiding her hand to put the oxygen mask back in place, "There you go."

Brandon heard his name shouted again and after he helped load Agnes into the ambulance, he went back to the fire truck, feeling the affects of a new adrenalin high. 


	3. Chapter 2: JorEl's Crystal

Chapter 2- Jor-El's Crystal

There was a light breeze as Superman flew around the main skies of Metropolis, looking for a blonde surfer wannabe, who apperently moonlit as a firestarter. He didn't feel the breeze. Even if he wasn't Kryptonian, he wouldn't have felt anything other than the pain that had gone numb after a few weeks of mourning Lois' death. He tried to focus all this time on work and even saving Metropolis, but it never helped. All it did was remind him of all he'd lost. He may have had the nickname 'The Man of Steel', but if anyone really knew, they'd call him weak.

Clark continued to look for the arsonist, but he knew deep down that even if he found him, it just wouldn't matter. Someone else would start some trouble some other time, if not for attention or love, then for revenge somehow. Either way, there would always be crime in Metropolis, and even he, with all of his power couldn't stop that.

Clark changed course after about an hour after he realized that he wouldn't find the arsonist that night, and he headed to the Fortress, where he was greeted at once by the sound of his birth father's voice. "How long has it been? How long will you continue to mourn the humans, Kal-El?"

"Until I die, if that is what it takes," Clark replied curtly as he paced the icy floors of the Fortress.

"They were your distraction, the humans were. It isn't too late to fullfill all that you must."

"There is no destiny. There is nothing else. I'm done here."

"You will get over it, son. You will soon forget-"

"Never!" Clark snapped. "I will never forget Lois. She was my soulmate."

"There is no such thing, not for a Kryptonian and a human. The loss of this Lois and your child should have told you as much."

"There is nothing else," Clark repeated, though whether he was referring to his destiny or his soulmate or his lost son was uncertain. What was certain was that he said this so loudly that it echoed for many seconds afterwards.

"Your destiny-"

Clark was having no more talk on his so called 'destiny', a destiny he never wanted, and certainly never wanted without someone to share it with. "Give it to someone else! I told you, 'I'm done here'."

There was a silence in the Fortress for a minute or two, and Clark thought that maybe Jor-El would strike in anger, but there was nothing for a long time. "I see within you that your words are true. You've fallen, my son. Even if you wanted your destiny, you are no longer the Kryptonian strong enough to take it on."

Clark didn't know what to say to this, but deep down, he hoped this meant that Jor-El had given up on him. "I'm leaving," he finally said. "I'll not return to the Fortress. I may not even return to Earth."

"And where would you go?"

"I do not know."

"What of your humans? Who will save them once you're gone? They're weak and have come to depend on you."

This stopped Superman's pacing. His decision to leave hadn't been spontanious, but he hadn't meant to tell his father just yet. Telling Jor-El made it final. Still, even as he thought of just running away, he hadn't considered what he would do about the people of Metropolis and Earth. He didn't want to leave them defenseless, but he couldn't stay. After a silence lasting almost five minutes, Jor-El spoke again.

"If you insist on leaving Earth- and me- behind, then I shall give you something- a farewell gift of sorts." Along the corner of the Fortress, 3 crystals began to glow, but 2 of them went back to normal immediately, leaving just one to glow in an emerald green light. "Take the crystal. Look around your Earth for a champion to take your place. With the touch of the crystal, he or she will gain all of your strength and power, but not being Kryptonian, will have none of the weakness you or I would experience."

Clark moved slowly and touched the crystal that continued to glow. As soon as he touched it, he could feel some of his energy draining before he felt fine again a moment later. Jor-El continued to speak. "There are conditions, my son. The one you choose must be worthy of your power. They must be as strong at heart as you once were, as devoted to saving others as you were when your humans were alive. And- this is important- They must be willing to sacrifice themselves. That is the test. Once they show that they are willing to sacrifice themselves, either for a loved one or someone they don't even know, then the crystal will activate, and only then will the transfer happen."

"Why would you do this? For me, for the humans you seem to think lower than you?" Clark asked as he held onto the crystal, which had by then stopped glowing. It was now as white as all the others in the Fortress.

"At the end of it all, you are my son. You may not understand, but I do love you. In my own right. And you forget that though I do not belive humans to be as strong as Kryptonians, I have met two nobel humans, humans that I chose to care for you. Because of Johnathan and Martha Kent, a part of me will always be indebted to humans."

"I'm not sorry that I couldn't be the Kryptonian you wanted me to be," Clark said after a moment of thought.

"No, perhaps not," was all Jor-El said to this.

"Then this is goodbye," Superman said as he stood up straighter.

"Yes. Goodbye, my son."

"Goodbye... Father." With those words, Clark flew out of the Fortress with the crystal firmly in his fist. He was about to head for the clouds when a loud crunch sounded, causing him to turn back. Before him, he saw the Fortress begin to crumble to the snow outside, creating a cloud of its own out of the powdered snow. Part of Clark was sad to see the Fortress gone, but he knew as well that were he to leave as he planned, that there was no more need for it to be there. The Fortress of Solitude was gone, and soon, Kal-El and Clark Kent would be, too.


	4. Chapter 3: Anger

Chapter 3- Anger *A Few Days Later*

Brandon Jennings sat at the kitchen table as his girlfriend, Amber, tended to his three day-old burns. He was a little angry with her, even though he knew that she didn't mean to make it sting. He was angry with the fire chief for making him go home even though he had another two days of duty. He was angry at the arsonist who was still out there somewhere, causing yet another deadly fire, this time resulting in a group of people from the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI join in. He was angry with Superman for not catching him by now and not even being around the last few days. Most of all, Brandon was angry with himself.

The papers called him simply 'The Arsonist' like he was some god dammned supervillian worthy of a title. Like this coward could even take on the likes of Superman. Or that would be the case, if Superman were even around anymore. Had Brandon not gotten burned so badly the night after saving Agnes, he would've been there for the deadly fire that was now all over the news. So far, a count of 20 people were in the building and more to come as reports came in by the minute. The deathtoll was up to 14 of the 20 people that were known to be in the building, and as each minute passed, new numbers come rolling in as firefighters brought out more and more people.

"You've got that look," Amber spoke up, startling Brandon out of his thoughts. "Don't have that look."

"What look?" Brandon asked, though he knew perfectly which look his girlfriend was talking about. He tore his attention away from the news on the TV that was in the other room.

"You've got the right to be angry, but Baby, don't act as if its all your fault."

"I saw him, Amber."

"That doesn't make it your fault. You didn't light the match or pour the accelerant, okay?"

Brandon didn't speak for a minute as an update came in. There was a report of the whole building collapsing, making the likeliness of anyone surviving, including any firefighters inside, slim to none. "He's getting bolder. I think its because of his nickname. He's getting the attention he wants, and now... He must think he's invincible, that bastard! Someone's gotta do something about him!"

"And you think it should be you? Do you know how crazy that is? Brandon, you aren't Superman-"

"Yeah, well the so called 'Man of Steel' sure is doing a bang up job lately, now isn't he?"

Amber finished wrapping Brandons's arm once he stopped moving. After a moment of stillness, Amber's hand covered the top of Brandon's unburned hand. He knew that going to class the next day was going to be a bitch, but not as much as the Friday's class had been. "You are a great man," Amber said slowly, as if afraid her words would only fuel Brandon's anger. "You are also a smart man, Brandon."

"Your way of saying 'don't do something stupid'?" the fireman asked. Amber smiled out of the corner of her mouth.

"Yes. I don't understand why each of these fires have become some sort of hit on you."

Brandon couldn't say, either, why he was so determined to stop this guy. It could be that he went to school to stop guys like him, to save people, and he wasn't doing that. He shook his head in a failed attempt to tell his girlfriend this, but he didn't know if that was the truth. Since he didn't want to lie to Amber, subconsiously or not, Brandon stayed silent and shrugged instead.

"They'll get this guy. If not Superman, then the fire department, and if not them, then the BAU. Don't worry, Baby. They'll catch 'im and it'll be okay."

Brandon wasn't sure. Like a few days ago, he worried about Superman and his recent absense. Having seen how vacant the hero was, the firefighter wondered if Superman was ever going to come back, and if he wasn't, then what would become of them all. "I hope you're right, I really do."

Amber stood up and hugged Brandon from the back, putting both of her hands on his chest. "If you're done with homework and everything, we should get to bed," she said.

"Homework's done. For now."

"Then let's go to bed," Amber said again.

Brandon considered her, and he saw the look of worry and fear for him in her eyes. "Okay," he said after a moment.

The couple both stood upright, and Amber put the first aid kit away while Brandon went to the living room. He watched the flames on the television screen as they engulfed the remaining parts of the structure. He glared at the sketch of the one known simply as 'The Arsonist'. It wasn't completely accurate, but it would have to be enough. "If they don't get you soon, you little shit, I will. Somehow." With a flick of his wrist, he turned off the TV and went to join his girlfriend for the night, turning off lights and locking doors on the way. 


	5. Chapter 4: The Fallen

Chapter 4- The Fallen  
>*The Next Day*<p>

Brandon hurried into the fire station with his chest tight. He couldn't help but to hope that it was nobody he knew who'd parished in the previous night's fire. He then felt badly because a death was still a death no matter who they were or where they'd been. The final death count had been 27 people, with only 9 of them surviving the night. Three of them were firefighters, and the one other fire fighter that did survive was still in severe condition. Brandon couldn't get to sleep the night before as he wondered who these people were, or if he would have been one of them, if only he'd been there. Part of him was glad that he had been sent home, but as a result, he suffered from survivor's guilt.

The fire chief looked up when Brandon entered the quiet building. Though part of Brandon already knew, he felt he had to hear it from his boss, a man he looked up to and trusted. "Jennings. I was just about to call you."

"Who was it, Danny? Who was in that fire?"

Danny Oakland scratched his balding grey hair in aggitation as he said, "I should-a known you'd have watched the news last night. It's common knowledge around here how you feel about this 'Arsonist' guy."

"Mr. Oakland..." Brandon said. After the initial 'new aquaintance' period in their relationship, Brandon hadn't used formalities unless he was being serious or they were both around other superiors. At the moment, the brunette man had to know, "Who?"

"Jasmine, Ray, 'n' Lance," the older man said quietly.

Brandon understood then why Danny was so reluctant to tell him. He felt as if he'd been punched repeatedly in the chest and stomach. The one thing he didn't want to hear came to him threefold. All four of them had gone through the same tests and training, and were often sent together on the same runs. Jasmine was like an older sister to him (since she was very much like Hermione Granger) even though she was a year younger than him. Ray and Lance he'd known before joining the fire department, as they were both in the same program he was in at school. They had told Brandon about the opperatunity to join up as part of their internship, as well as volunteer experience that could be put on a resume. Brandon wasn't sure if he could even get in because of his larger frame, but Ray had helped him train while Lance helped him stay focused in both study sessions and in class. Brandon had just barely passed and made it in, and it was all thanks to those guys. At school they made up their own Three Musketeers, and he didn't know what to do without them.

"Conner hasn't come in yet, and though I called him, he's not answerin' his phone. Must be caught in traffic or he's mourning too. 'Heard he had a thing for Jasmine." Brandon knew that Danny must have felt awkward with the prolonged silence, but Brandon almost couldn't breathe, let along find something to say. "Look, uh... I know I've kept you off because-a your burns and such," Danny tried again, "but I'm going to have to have you stay home a bit longer. I know you were close to all three o' them. They're our big loss."

"I-I-" Brandon sputtered. He felt himself come slowly out of the fog that had engulfed him like the fires that took his friends.

"There is nothing more any of us could do right now. I'm waiting for any update on Carson, who was hospitalized last night. In the mean time, I am schedualling training days for the retest next month. I suggest you rest up and mourn. You know- take care of yourself."

"You want me gone for a whole month?" Brandon asked incredulously.

"No Brandon," Danny said gently to calm the young man down some, "you misunderstood me, and I'm sorry for that. Just... Go home, be with family for a while and I'll give you a call next week to see where we are, okay?" Danny watched the immobile man before him who had tensed up so much that he feared he might spring at any moment, but the brunette man backed away, out of the office, and then out of the building without another word. "That poor guy," Danny said to himself, knowing that he was the one hit the hardest with the news.

Danny took out a picture that had been hidden in his desk for the last few weeks since the fires around Metropolis had started. A young man barely out of his teens looked at the camera with a sour expression. "You've been a bad boy, Walker. All-a this because I missed a couple of your competitions? You should know that I ain't worth all-a this." Danny sighed and roughly put the picture back in his desk. He faintly heard the sound of breaking glass, but he didn't care that the picture frame broke. He pulled out a flask that had been empty for over three years, that was, until that morning when he lost his long uphill battle with alcoholism. He put the flask to his lips and took in a large gulp. He felt the burn of the liquid as it slid down his throat, and slowly as he felt the buzzing in his head, he continued to drink. He could feel his guilt ebb away with each gulp, if only for the moment being.


	6. Chapter 5: Green Flames

Chapter 5- Green Flames  
>*Another Day Later*<p>

Brandon walked slowly hand in hand with Amber. Together, they walked down the sidewalks. There was still another couple of hours before they were going to pick up their daughter Mehkenzie from daycare. The couple were going to the site of the fire from the night before, the one that claimed Jasmine, Ray and Lance's lives. It had been Amber's idea to go, since no matter what was said or done, Brandon couldn't seem to settle down, and though the firefighter wasn't sure he was ready to go there so soon, he went along with it. The closer the couple got, the more Brandon felt ill at ease. He thought that taking off his red jacket and wrapping it around his waist would help, but it didn't.

Not too far away, Clark Kent had just landed after his world-wide search for someone to take his place. He'd heard about the fire the night before, and he felt badly for being too far away at the time to help. His powers were weaker now, and he assumed that it was because of the crystal, which he now always carried around in case he found 'the one'. Clark stared at the yellow tape surrounding what was left of the grounds. He could feel that the soot and ash from the fire still lingered in the air. On the ground outside of the tape were dozens of flowers left by mourners and supporters of the fire department. Then, the scuffled sound of footsteps caught his attention, and he focused his hearing and sight on the area where it was coming from.

He was surprised, though he wondered inside if he really should have been, when he saw a familiar face. It took Clark a moment to realize that the man and companion walking towards the ruins was the firefighter he's spoken to briefly a few nights ago. Clark didn't know who the dirty blonde woman in glasses next to him was, but seeing as she held the fireman's uninjured hand and didn't wear a ring on her left ring finger, he assumed her to be his girlfriend. Clark felt the crystal vibrate against him at the same time a low hum was heard coming from it. When he took it from his pocket, he saw that it glowed a light, white-blue color. "What does it mean?" he asked himself, even though part of him already knew the answer to that. He looked back at the large set man, wondering if the crystal meant him or another person that was nearby, as Clark hadn't seen the crystal glow at all in his entire search for a champion.

"YOU!" the firefighter suddenly bellowed and shook his hand out of his girlfriend's before he took off running, his face angry and determined.

Clark, confused, looked around. He didn't see who the firefighter was after, but when he used his x-ray vision, he saw the blonde man the firefighter had told him about a few nights prior, and found that he had been quite accurate in the description of him. Clark hurried to change into Superman before trying to help out, hoping that it wasn't too late by the time he got there like the night before.

Clark saw the firefighter's girlfriend, who seemed to be trying to keep up with the two men. The fireman was quicker than he looked, and was fueled by grief and rage. Superman slowed his flight to keep pace with the woman. "Where'd they go?"

The woman looked up from her feet as they pounded the pavement in her persuit of the two men. She then pointed ahead of them. "To-" she sucked in a deep breath and panted as she got out, "Two blocks... left... maybe Luthor Corp... Abandoned... Warehouse."

"Thank you."

"Please... Don't let 'im get... hurt."

Clark nodded and sped up again. Sure enough, he turned a corner just in time to see the blonde man enter the old Luthor Corp-owned warehouse. Though Lex Luthor had died a couple of years ago and parts of his cooperation had been sold to various investors, Superman had to stop people from entering the warehouse all the time. There were still rumors of testing among metahumans inside, but no one could ever prove it, least of all him. As Clark got closer, though, he got a familiar sick feeling. Somewhere close was Kryptonite, but he couldn't see its source or how much was there. What he could see was that the warehouse was currently on fire. Did the arsonist know that someone from the fire department would be at last night's fire site? Was he taunting the firefighters now that he had killed three of them? Was he now gloating? 

Brandon stayed pretty close behind the blonde man and felt proud of himself for this feat. The arsonist seemed surprised that Brandon was keeping up with him. If the brunette man were honest, though, he wasn't sure just how much longer he would have been able to keep that up. He wasn't sure why the arsonist lead him to the warehouse until he saw that it was burning. But why here? There was nobody inside anymore, or so he thought. He then heard a loud male scream, and he thought he recognized it. "Connor?" Brandon asked himself, wondering why he was there of all places. Then he hurried inside after the blonde man, hoping that the arsonist would lead right to where the voice came from. The inside was a lot hotter than he thought it would've been, and the burns on his right arm reacted immediately. Brandon winced.

"I know you, Fatboy. You saw me the other night, didn't you? You got my sketch all wrong, but that's okay. No matter how accurate it is, they'll never catch me, and I won't stop until everyone in Firehouse 9 are dead."

Brandon couldn't tell where the arsonist's voice was coming from, so he focused his attention on the screams Connor had made earlier. "CONNER?"

"Help!" came the male cry.

"Conner, keep talking."

"Please help me. I am tied up here, and the flames, they hurt so bad."

Brandon went further into the building, further into the hot flames. His older burns felt as if they were on fire again. Soon Brandon came across a wall of green flames. "What-" He looked down to see that on the floor were green rocks that were on fire, looking like coal, only they caused the color change in the flames. He heard a cough and went towards it, only to see the wall of fire around the lanky black man he had only spoken to on a few occasions, since he was paid fire staff and hardly had the same runs as him. Brandon swore and then he took his red jacket off of his hips. He whipped it about, moving the flames enough for him to jump over them and get to his teammate. There was a clap.

"Bravo, Fatty. Now, can you do that again for the girl who just came in?" the arson asked in his smug voice, but it seemed muffled, and Brandon knew from training and experiance that he was wearing a gas mask now.

"Girl?" Brandon asked.

"Brandon?"

"Amber!" the fireman gasped as he continued to untie the African American man. Once Conner was free, Brandon went on to try and carry him out, screaming, "You dare touch her and I-"

"Newflash Big One, I don't have to! This bad boy's gonna collapse any minue, just like last night, and all three of you will be trapped to die."

"W-Why?" Brandon called out, trying to hoist Conner over himself enough to try and jump the flames again, but the burns on his hand made his grip much weaker, and it was difficult. Brandon began to cough and gasp for clean air that wouldn't come. The brunette man squinted through the smoke and brightness of the fire to try and see who spoke so confidently to him.

"Because a mistake was made and its too late to make it right. I will never be ignored again!" The voice was now closer, but Brandon still didn't see him.

Brandon jumped the flames, but because Conner was heavier than he thought, his own feet dragged through some of the hotter parts, and his pant leg caught on fire. Conner helped him pat out the green flames. "Conner, get outta here, man."

"What about you? You heard 'im. This place is about to go down."

"I've gotta go get Amber."

"Where is she?"

"I dunno." Brandon helped Conner get towards the entrance he had come in from. "Go."

"Brandon?" the fireman heard again.

"AMBER!"

"I can't see. There's too much smoke."

"I'm coming."

"Why hasn't Superman come yet? I saw him fly by me," Amber called.

"Who cares," Brandon responded flippantly. He was losing faith in his hero. "Keep talking."

"I'm here," Amber called out.

"I can't see you, and it's getting hotter!" Though he tried, Brandon couldn't hide his fear. Suddenly, there was a large bang, and then a breeze lifted the smoke just in time for Brandon to see a redhot beam engulfed in the green flames start to crack in half. He picked up speed and began to run towards Amber, who was trapped in place with emerald fire all around her.

Superman, who was crawling further into the building after the Kryptonite inside weakened him, tried to blow another blast of air in to aid the fireman a little more. He saw that the man who had initially gotten trapped inside was now free, calling the fire department and police to the scene. When Clark looked up, he saw the fireman running towards his girlfriend, and looking at the same spot the fire fighter was looking at as he ran, Superman noticed why. He picked himself off of the ground even though he felt as if gravity was for once working against him, and knowing that even with his powers and without the Kryptonite in the warehouse, he wouldn't get to the couple in time. Still, he tried. In the corner of his eye, he saw the arsonist watching the fireman with his eyes more wild than the flames around them all. He was closer to the fireman than he thought he was, and looked fascinated by the whole scene.

Superman continued his own run towards the fireman, and a thought came to him. It might have been the only way to save him. He took the crystal out in midrun and reached out. The beam continued to fall, and the fireman now also reached out to his girlfriend, pulling her towards him as he spun them both so that his back was now to it. Superman's eyes widened as the crystal glowed as green as it had in the Fortress, and it was bright. It almost looked like some of the flames inside the building. He inched forward now, and it seemed as if everything slowed down. Finally, just before the beam hit the fireman's neck and back, Clark jumped forward almost as if he was catching a ball in a baseball game. He touched the crystal to the back of the fireman's neck, and the color changed again to its white-blue color. But something happened that he didn't expect. The energy was felt flowing through his fingertips and into the crystal right before the beam hit his arm. This, or rather, the green flame seemed to disrupt the transfer, as the color in the crystal changed again to green right before the crystal shattered into three peices. Clark watched in horror as a larger peice of it shot across the warehouse and into the green flames by the arsonist's feet, which rose up quickly around the blonde man and engulfed him. Superman winced at the screams, but before he could try and do anything, it all went black.


	7. Chapter 6: Stupid Things

Chapter 6- Stupid Things

When Brandon woke up, he winced at the light in his room. He slowly moved his head and saw Conner at the window and Amber leaning in what must have been an uncomfortable position in a chair next to his bed. "Hey," Connor said softly when he turned from the window and saw that Brandon was awake.

"What... happened?" he asked groggily.

"According to the news, you helped save a fellow firefighter and almost caught 'The Arsonist', but he died in his own fire."

"The arsonist is dead?"

"Yeah. His clothes and DNA were found at the scene. No remains were found yet, but get this: Superman was there when the firefighters pulled up. 'Said you were a real hero, man. He couldn't get inside because of the green flames making him sick. Something about the experiments that might have gone on in the building or something."

"Yeah, I remember a breeze like the one he created the other night when he helped me in the other fire." Brandon stayed silent after he said this. He slowly reached to touch the back of his neck, where the beam had hit him. There was a numb feeling and he wondered if that was some weird side affect of a concussion or something, as he had never had one before. When Brandon saw his hand, he noticed that the burns were completely gone and his hand wasn't even wrapped. "How long have I been out?"

"Few hours," Connor said simply.

"Where's Mehkenzie?"

"Who?"

"Our daughter," Brandon explained. If anyone cared about technicallities, Mehkenzie wasn't genetically his daughter, but the adoption papers were as good as signed.

"I think she," Conner gestured half-heartedly towards Amber, "called her mother."

At the sound of voices, Amber's eyes opened. When she saw that Brandon was up, she made her back and neck pop and crackle before scooting her chair closer. "Don't EVER do that to me again!"

"I'm sorry-" Brandon began, but was cut off.

"Yes, I know, but if I find out that you went into a burning building again without protective gear, I'll-"

"Conner was in trouble. What else could I do?"

Conner's eyebrows rose at the look Amber gave him. "Don't blame me. One minute I'm laying flowers down at the fire site, and the next I'm tied up with fire around me. That asshole hit me from behind!" he protested.

"Seems to make sense. His actions were pretty cowardly," Brandon said.

There was the sound of a ring tone going off. Conner took his phone out of his pocket, checked the display, and said, "Its my mom. I've got to take this outside." With that, he left the room.

As soon as the door was shut, Brandon turned to Amber. "Why did you run in after me?"

"You know what I can do. If I just found you, I could've helped." Brandon knew that might have been the answer, which was why he waited for Conner to leave before he asked about it.

"But you have no fire training, and that beam could've fallen on you," Brandon protested.

"But it wouldn't have hurt me, unlike you," Amber argued.

"In the heat of the moment- no pun intended, I guess- I forgot about your ability," Brandon admitted. "I doubt I would've done things differently even if I didn't forget."

"Aw, Baby..." Carefully, Amber hugged Brandon. When she leaned back into her chair, she said, "I have a feeling that something more happened back there."

Grateful for the slight subject change, Brandon asked, "What do you mean?"

"The beam. It should've hit you, right? Well, I don't think that it did. There are no burns on your back, and no marks on you except for a small star-like mark on the back of your neck. I think Superman was there when the beam hit. He passed out inside the building, but woke up after I dragged you both out of there."

"But he put the credit on me. Why?"

"Maybe he admired your courage," Amber suggested.

"My burns are completely gone, but Connor said that I was only out for a few hours," Brandon said slowly.

"That's another thing that worries me," Amber murmured.

"What do you mean? " Brandon asked again.

"As far as I know, Superman doesn't have the ability to heal people, and I have only the ability to heal myself and regenerate my own skin. And the slight added strength. When I called my mom and had her bring Mehkenzie here, she took a nap next to you in the bed. After that, the nurse came to redress your other burns and tend to the ones on your legs, but they were all gone."

"So..." Brandon said slowly, not exactly sure where Amber was going with all of this.

"I think Mehkenzie's got a power, too."

"You think SHE healed me?"

"She was so scared for you, Brandon, so yes, I think she might've. She understood that you had owies and I think she wanted to make it better."

"What are you going to do?"

"Nothing for now. I remember how confusing it was for me to be different and to have no one help me understand why I could do the tings I could do. It'll be different for her. I can help, since I've been there, done that." Amber took in a deep breath and let it out as she thought about things, wondering how she was going to explain to her daughter that she was special, and to make it clear that different didn't equal strange or bad.

Brandon also thought about what had happened that afternoon and the words the arsonist had said. All of that anger had done that to him, and Brandon vowed to not let his own anger consume him to the point of being blinded by white rage. But what got to Brandon the most was the fact that he'd known about Conner and Brandon being from the same firehouse, and had even said the firehouse number. Was it his plan all along to kill people there, or had it changed after the firehouse and its people stopped his first few fires? Brandon wondered when the lab reports would be able to tell them all who the arsonist was. Maybe that would tell them more about who or what made him so angry.

Amber spoke up after a few silent minutes, which took Brandon out of his thoughts. "The nurses said that you should be able to go home tomorrow if you woke up tonight like they predicted that you would."

Brandon looked over at Amber, who wouldn't meet his gaze. "Hey," he said, reaching over to put a hand on Amber's cheek. "I know it all was stupid, and I can't promise you that it won't happen again, but powers or not, Amber, I will always be here to protect you and Mehkenzie with my last breath." There was a pause, and then he continued, "I do those stupid things because I love you and I wouldn't know what to do with myself if I lost either of you."

"How do you think I feel, you idiot? If you die protecting me, where will I be?"

There was another silence and then Brandon said, "Then I guess we'll have to protect eachother."

"Yeah, I guess so, huh?" Amber stood long enough to lean over the bed's bars and kiss Brandon. "I love you too, you know."

Brandon smiled a light smile and said, "Yeah, I know. And I'm a better man for it." And he meant it. Long ago, he'd been with another. They'd been so young, and those who married at a young age as they had didn't seem to make it, and it was true for them as well. The woman hurt him so badly, but he was able to love again when Amber and him crossed paths again. Though he'd been hurt so badly, he was grateful for it all happening because he was able to truly apretiate his new life with Amber. Maybe that was why his song to her was 'God Bless the Broken Road' by Rascal Flatts.

"You should rest, Baby." Amber left a kiss on Brandon's forehead and scooted the chair backwards enough to lay her head on her hands, which were now folded over Brandon's.

"Okay. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."


	8. Chapter 7: Freaks

Chapter 7- Freaks

As promised, Brandon had been released the next morning at around 8 AM. Amber was surprised when the brunette man wanted to go directly to school for his 10 AM class. Brandon knew deep down that it would've been a bad idea, but he couldn't just stay home. Amber didn't argue, as she couldn't not say that she wouldn't do the same thing under the circumstances. She could sense that Brandon was drawing away from her somewhat, but she hoped that in time he would see how much she cared for him and would allow her to be there for him. All Amber could do was drop him off at the campus, call out 'I love you, have a nice day' and then drive back to the house so that she could get herself ready for work by noon.

Brandon could feel a couple of stares as he entered the main classroom where he spent so much time goofing off with Ray or studying for tests with Lance. For a couple of minutes as he sat looking through his last essay on benzine fires and the procedures for containing them, Brandon felt as if it was a normal day, and that his friends were just late. When one of his well meaning classmates offered him condolences, the illusion was shattered. His friends were dead, and people now looked at him and spoke to him with sympathy and pity. Poor Brandon, who lost his friends. How sad, now he's all alone.

Professor Garret squeezed his shoulder on his way to the front of the room. Brandon was tempted to shrug him off, but he didn't move. His back stiffened, and when he felt the back of his neck twinge, he remembered that he had just gotten out of the hospital and he didn't want to go back in a hurry. He made himself space out during the moment of silence for his friends, and then he pretended that Ray and Lance were just abscent that day just so that he could get through class. He didn't catch anyone's eye, didn't pair up with anyone for the assignment, didn't respond to anything anyone said. And he got away with it. He got to be a dick simply because his friends were gone and no one knew what to say to him, anyway. They soon learned to leave him alone, and that suited Brandon just fine.

After the first half of class, Brandon sat against the cement wall not too far away from the building his classes were held. He took in a deep breath as images of the arsonist entered his mind, as well as the heartless words he'd said as they had all morning so far. A small group of younger (which wasn't realy saying much considering the fact that Brandon was 24 years old and a majority of the students in his class were younger than him) boys walked to a spot not too far away from him and began to joke around and talk loudly, disrupting the man's only bit of solitude until the next half of class started up again. "Hey, you guys hear about The Arsonist?" one of the boys asked. He stood tall and lanky with a white and green striped shirt, tanned brown pants, and black and white sneakers. His blonde hair flopped to the front and he often had to tilt his head back or to the side in order to keep it out of his eyes momentarily.

"What, that 'e's dead?" another boy asked. He stood quite a bit shorter with black hair which had a white stripe along the side, black skull shirt, large black pants with the same amount of rips and chains along the thighs and knees, black fingernail polish, and large black clunky boots. The only thing on the boy that wasn't black was the rainbow beaded bracelet he wore.

"Yeah, I thought that guy would've been caught by Superman or something, not die in his own fire," the blonde boy said, jerking his head backwards so that his bangs flipped out of his eyes. "So lame."

"You ever think that maybe he was right?"

"Whattaya mean?" the blonde boy asked.

"Well, you know about the freaks. Not like Superman, I guess. I know you're kinda gay for 'im and all-"

"You're the bi guy. Leave me out if it-"

The kid all in black shrugged. "Anyway, yeah. There are so many freaks in this city- thanks to Lex Luthor and his mutant making warehouses- that I sorta want to see everything burn."

Brandon, who was already irritated because his silent moment was wrecked, stood up when he heard this. "Do you really believe that?" he asked. It was then that both boys, as well as a redhead boy about the same hight as Brandon who had stayed silent all this time so far, seemed to notice that he was even there.

"What's it to you?" the blackened boy asked with a small sneer.

"You speak as if that arsonist was some sorta hero," Brandon replied, not answering the boy's question. "People died in those fires. That guy was crazy!"

"Yeah, well, if you ask me, that guy, crazy or not, did us all a favor."

"By killing innocent people and firefighters?"

"By killing off the freaks. The superpowered freaks. They deserve to die," the boy corrected snidely.

Brandon's jaw had been tight for the first half of the conversation, but when the boy said this, he thought about Amber and now Mehkenzie with their powers, and he lost it. He took a step forward. "Why you-" The brunette man grabbed the boy by the front of his skull shirt. There was a gasp and Brandon watched almost helplessly as the dark haired boy was lifted off of the ground, his feet kicking at the firefighter who couldn't feel it. He had only meant to to bring the punk into him as he chewed him out a little bit, which would have been just as inappropriate, but his anger made him strong. Brandon's eyes widened, and he dropped the boy, who landed on his feet and staggered backwards to his friends.

"Wh-What the hell, man!" he screamed. "You're one of those freaks, too?"

"No, I-" Brandon got out in his confusion. He took a couple of steps backwards himself, and then turned and ran, the fear on the boy's face still in his mind as his feet hit the sidewalk with each step. He made it completely off of the school campus, and he turned to go towards his home. He didn't think to call home first to have Amber come pick him up. He just needed to get away.

Suddenly, Brandon felt that twinge on the back of his neck, just before a burn flowed through his body. Brandon felt it the most in his arms and legs. Just when he was about to slow down in his running, everything went blurry, from the green of the trees that lined the houses, to the grey of the sidewalk. All he could see was his shoes and even they seemed a little out of focus. He felt something thump against the toe of his shoe, and Brandon tripped. 'The bigger you are, the harder you fall,' he thought to himself somewhat bitterly as he went down hard. He looked at his hands, but instead of scrapes and cuts that should have come from a fall like his, Brandon saw bits of gravel imbedded in his hands, which he simply rubbed together to get rid of them. When he got up to run again, he realized that in those ten or twenty seconds at a fast speed, he'd gone over three miles, and his house was only another ten blocks away. Brandon continued his run, telling himself that this was just too weird and that he must have still been a little messed up from that day before.

Brandon rushed through the door with shaking hands and quivering insides. "Amber?" he called as soon as he heard movement in another room. There were feet, and Brandon looked down the hall just in time to see Mehkenzie peeking out playfully from the doorway of her room.

"Hi," she said with a grin.

"C'mere, Mack," Brandon said. The little girl ran towards him and Brandon picked her up, meeting the usual resistance in his arms, which meant that his added strength was gone. He wasn't sure if he was happy or upset by this. Mehkenzie gave him a kiss on the nose, and Brandon could smell the sweetened smell of milk from her Fruitloops.

The door opened in his and Amber's bedroom, and Brandon saw his girlfriend emerge with a look of concern on her face. "Brandon, what are you doing home? Is everything alright?" she asked as she toweled off her hair, now dark due to dampness.

Brandon linked his hands under Mehkenzie's bottom as the girl stuck her ring and middle fingers into her mouth, and he wasn't sure just what to say. Amber joined the two people in her life as the towel came completely off of her head. She could see how scared Brandon looked. "I don't know what just happened," Brandon admitted. He made other noises from the back of his throat that were supposed to somehow become words, but otherwise nothing else came out. Amber put a hand on Brandon's shoulder and this made him stop and take a deep breath.

"I don't understand. What happened?" Amber asked.

Brandon spoke again, but quickly. The only words that could be understood were 'Goth', 'Strength' and 'Superman'. Brandon finally stopped speaking for a second, took in another deep breath, and said, "You wouldn't believe me." Amber gave him a 'Look' and he shrugged. "Well, maybe you would," he mumbled, "but its so weird." He started from the beginning, recounting the way he felt in class and the boys who ruined his solitary moment, to the words spoken and what he'd done, even the speedy way in which he'd gotten home. "So you know what happened to me?" Brandon asked. He was close to hysterics now. "I mean, are these some messed up side effects of some pain meds or something?"

Amber shook her head. "You didn't get any medication while you were there."

"I should be weakened after leaving the hospital, not stronger right away, and definately not like that," Brandon said. Amber thought for a second. "They didn't prick me with any needles, did they?"

"No. Nothing would break the skin," Amber responded.

"See?"

"What are you thinking?" Amber asked when she saw the strange look in his eye.

"I don't know," Brandon admitted, but part of him allowed one thought to enter his mind, even as the rest of him wanted to stay rational and tried to push it away. "What if," he started to say, but then dismissed it again.

Finally, as if to read his mind, Amber said, "Well, Superman was there yesterday, and something weird DID happen-"

"No," Brandon cut in, "He wouldn't, not for me."

"And why not?" Amber asked incredulously. "Why do you think that he wouldn't?"

"Look at me, Amber. He woudln't waste his powers and his time on someone like me. Does it look like I could put on that cape and fly around saving people?"

"I think," Amber said slowly, "that you could do anything." The look on her face showed that Amber really believed it, if nobody else did.

"What if I'm dangerous now?" Brandon asked softly, finally voicing the one thought that he didn't want to think as that boy's terrified face entered his mind again.

"You ask with a baby in your arms," Amber retorted. "This power doesn't mean that," Amber said forcefully. "If anything, this means that you are stronger now for when you save people in fires, if that is what you wanted to do with them." Brandon didn't speak for a long time, so Amber continued, "If its true, if what I think happened really did happen," she said carefully, "then that means you've got a lot to get used to. And I can help you if you want."

"If what you think happened really did happen, then it must have been because it was the only way to save me in the fire, since he couldn't get to me because something in the warehouse made him sick and pass out. This means that this power is temporary and therefore I've got nothing to get used to. I've just got to let it pass."

"Alright, true enough, but if its for keeps, then I can show you how I've gotten used to my powers and trained myself. In turn, you can help me train Mehkenzie to her powers when the time comes." Brandon slowly, reluctantly nodded to this, though he doubted Superman would give someone like him his powers 'for keeps'. Amber kissed him. "I've gotta get to work. Should I take Mehkenzie in to day care-?"

"No, I'm home now. I'll care for her."

"Alright," Amber said. She then went to the bathroom again, grabbing the damp towel on the way, and Brandon sat the little girl down. She protested to this, but calmed down again after Brandon put on the Backyardigans. As soon as Brandon sat down on the couch, she climbed into his lap and was content to watch her show.


End file.
